


polychromancy

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision - Fandom
Genre: Doctor Strange 2 Predictions, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Monica Rambeau is Spectrum, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Spectrum!Monica Rambeau, WandaVision Predictions, stephen and wong cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "But what does “alive” even mean? To a woman who, for years, has been living with her ghosts as one would their roommates. What is the measure of livingness when, for so long, she’s been content to live in a state of in-between, neither living nor dead, delighted at being reunited with her dead whilst simultaneously pushing away her living?". . .In the aftermath of IW and Endgame, Wanda's struggling to separate reality from her delusions. Even moreso, with the choice of whether she even wants to separate them.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff & Monica Rambeau, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	polychromancy

**Author's Note:**

> Have I mentioned how fucking excited I am for a relationship between Wanda and Monica in WandaVision and potentially beyond? Something that isn't catty and exists longer than half a second? Because I am. I really, really am.  
> Anyhoo, I know I been gone a minute. I was actually gonna post a Star Wars fic last week, but it needs a shitton of editing, like, y'all don't need to see that. So I wound up waiting, and, this week, got inspired to write a prequel of a sequel of a fic that I never got around to finishing, and here she is. I'm actually really excited about this cuz I've written Wanda a few times but never from her perspective, so it was an interesting change of pace. Also, I spent a minute over on the mcu wiki and elsewhere, and word is Mordo and Nightmare are gonna be in the film. Can you say the most ambitious team-up event in history, like, a bitch is theorizing to shit 😭😭😭.  
> Also, Vision isn't tagged as a character cuz sdhjdscjdnj he's basically a soul-sucking zombie here, I'm so sorry. I actually like Vision, but I drug his ass through the mud in this. He isn't really a character in this, but his relationship with Wanda is pretty prevalent, so that's why they're tagged as a couple but he isn't.  
> OH AND ONE LAST NOTE. There's a scene at the end, where Stephen and Wong essentially talk about what movies/tv shows they wanna watch. I know how I feel about seeing my fav shows/movies randomly being shit on so just tread lightly. There are a few mentioned that I actually really like or haven't even seen so take that as you will lol. The mentioned shows/movies are Game of Thrones, Supernatural, Fast and Furious, Shadowhunters, General Hospital, Sherlock (cuz I'm a cheeky bitch), 21 Jump Street, Abominable, Merlin, Mary Poppins, and an in-universe reference to Venom (2018).  
> Now that that's all out of the way, let's get into the story.

The ceiling’s caving in. The walls are collapsing, and the temperature’s rising, oxygen consumed by the raging fires eating away at the oil underfoot. Summoning a sliver of red over her face in a makeshift, Wanda breathes, once, twice, then pushes herself to her feet.

There’s a trail of blood trickling down her temple, and she’s pretty sure she’s cracked a few ribs. But somehow, someway, she still manages to stagger down the hall. Because there’s a spike in energy coming from down that hall. And more importantly, there’s a voice, a confused, panicked voice, coming from down that hall.

“Monica?”, Wanda whispers, confused herself. With every step she takes, she leaves a trail of red, wispy fragments, a sort of mystical breadcrumb trail she has no knowledge of leaving. Along the way, she comes across several people, Agents and engineers. And along the way, Wanda grows more and more frightened. Because she’d told Monica not to come here. She was supposed to be in the Peak, in fucking space, where she’d be safe from the line of fire. 

Her heart’s in her throat, and her control of her powers is haywire, lost to the throes of emotion seeking to drag her underneath. When at last she comes upon the room responsible for the energy calling out to her, tears are actively streaming down her cheeks.

There’s a...a mass of energy, sitting on its haunches as it stares up at the swirling portal of  _ something _ from up above. It’s a miracle they’ve managed to last this long. If it were anyone else, they would’ve perished, body incapable of surviving this level of energy so close.

But this is Monica. And whatever’s happened to her, it’s only thriving in her resolve to survive and help others survive. 

“Wanda?” Monica’s voice is smooth, like silk, like water cascading down the side of a mountain. She turns around, eyes glowing a fierce white with sprinkles of brown. Her body melds into a more humanoid appearance, and Wanda takes a step forward. Never has Monica given her reason to be afraid of her, to be wary of her. This doesn’t change anything. 

But there’s another voice calling out to her. One which she hasn’t heard, hasn’t  _ really _ heard, in a long time. 

“Wanda.” 

No question, no hesitance. Just there. Wanda turns around, and there, amidst the crumbling debris, is Vision. 

Vision. Her Vision, not some weird Vision, bouncing from decade to decade to accommodate whatever delusion she was currently living. Just Vision. With a hand extended, soft eyes crinkled around the edges, the picture of composure within a collapsing oil rig. 

“How-”, Wanda breathes out, only to be cut off by Monica’s frantic, “Wanda!” She whips her head around, and the portal of swirling energy from above is lurching, latching onto her like a fishhook. Wanda’s instinct is to move, to reach out, keep her head from drowning. But she’s fallen still, petrified by the sound of Vision’s calm “Wanda”.

She’s been here before. Forced to choose between two things that meant so very much to her. The last time had been in Transia, when Pietro had been killed and she’d been forced between diving after his body and assisting the Avengers in saving her home, saving her planet. 

But this is different. Because, as much as it still pains her to admit, Pietro was long dead. She’s struggled with it for years. And even now she’s struggling with it, because she honestly cannot tell whether or not Vision is truly dead. 

She saw...she saw Thanos, rip out his stone, rip it out like it was nothing more than a pesky weed from his garden. She saw Vision’s body, limp and lifeless and void of the once vibrant color that pulsed through him, collapse to the ground like a doll. She saw him  _ die _ , felt him die, the Mind Stone perished with just a sliver of itself remaining, left to live, broken, for the rest of its life. 

But here he is. Against all logic, against everything she felt that day and every day since, here he is.

And on the other end of the room, there’s Monica. Very much alive and very much distraught.

Monica. Who’d remained when Wanda had pushed everyone else away. Who’d appeared like a ghost out of the mist and offered a hand when she was down. Who’d fought, for her, when the rest of the world had either forgotten about her or been resigned to letting her fuck off, live amongst her delusions. Monica Rambeau, (former) Agent of S.W.O.R.D., awkward yet determined, passionate, wanting nothing more than to see her dreams made into reality.

Monica Rambeau. A friend. A friend that is alive. 

But what does “alive” even mean? To a woman who, for years, has been living with her ghosts as one would their roommates. What is the measure of livingness when, for so long, she’s been content to live in a state of in-between, neither living nor dead, delighted at being reunited with her dead whilst simultaneously pushing away her living?

How do you choose: ghostly fingers brushing against her cheeks, parting her lips versus the solid, tangible feel of a trembling pair of arms wrapped around her waist. A lost lover’s kiss, the embrace of a friend. 

How do you choose?

“Wanda!”

“Wanda.”

Wanda takes a step toward Vision just as a body composed entirely of plasma tackles her. In truth, it’s more the pain sends her more to the ground more than the flimsy, intangible presence, but it’s enough. She turns onto her back, to where Monica’s staring at her, eyes wide with fear as she shouts, “Can’t you hear me?” At Wanda’s blank expression, she says, “The fucking building’s coming down on top of us! We gotta get out of here!”

But Wanda isn’t paying attention. Because over her shoulder, Wanda’s ghosts stand, like a family getting ready to have their picture taken. Then a pillar of metal falls on them, and when the dust settles, they’re gone. If they’d ever been there. Her mother, her father, Pietro, Vision. All of them. Gone.

Again. 

“I don’t know what you’re seeing right now”, Monica says, desperately attempting to grasp at her. But her presence is frail, as ghostly as Vision’s had been. When she reaches for Wanda, she just burns and passes right through her. It’s like trying to catch fire. You can’t touch, and it can’t touch you, but, sure as rain, it can hurt you. Something about that seems to unsettle Monica, to the point that she almost returns to the state she’d been in when Wanda had first found her. And hell if that isn’t just something. Their world is literally collapsing on top of them, and they’re both completely useless. 

The portal. It’s pulling at Monica again. Her eyes, once a rich, syrupy brown, become consumed with white, and Monica breathes, like there’s not enough air in the entire galaxy. She collapses, legs like jell-o underneath her. All the while, the ground is trembling, and pieces of ceiling are crashing around them. 

Ignoring the sting of smoke against her eyes, Wanda wraps her arms around Monica’s waist, setting a layer of red over her skin to combat the burn of Monica’s energy against her. Monica presses close to her, breathing in sharply as her pupils dilate and narrow. “Wanda”, she says, teeth gritted.

“I know”, Wanda whispers, hugging her tightly. “But it’s gonna be okay.” She wraps her magic around them both, using it to keep Monica on her feet against the push and pull of her new powers. And if Wanda’s being honest, she herself could use the anchor, too. 

It’s a minute or two later when Monica’s feet brush against the ground, eyes dimming back out to a soft, familiar brown. She takes her first step, and the light that is Monica Rambeau seeps out onto the floor, a footprint of polychromancy, lights intermingling like a finger painting of the sky at dusk.

“Come on”, Wanda breathes, linking their fingers together and guiding her back down the way she’d come. They’ve crossed three halls when the floor gives underneath them and sends them plummeting into the basement. Wanda summons a shield of red above them, and when Monica lifts a hand, a trembling field of rainbows emerges above her. Wanda has but a moment to stare before Vision’s voice whisks into her ear.

“Wanda”, he says, the phantom touch of his lips kissing the shell of her ear. “Wanda, we can have so much more time together.”

Tears leap to her eyes. As the air around them begins to swirl, the portal growing closer and closer, Wanda turns around. 

Vision’s back. But it isn’t the Vision she’d known for three years. It’s the Vision that had crumpled underneath the weight of Thanos. Skin a sickly grey, eyes unnaturally white, a massive chunk missing from where the Mind Stone had been ripped from his skull. He’s dragging himself across the floor, reminiscent of the zombie movies she and Pietro used to sneak to watch after bedtime. With each pull, a mess of wires is left behind, as well as colorful matter, everything that is Vision gone, just a husk of himself left behind.

But it’s still Vision. Or at least, it still looks like him. And fucked up as it may sound, it’s more than she’ll ever have again. 

A body; it’s more than her other ghosts were ever graced to have.

“We don’t have to end”, Vision wheezes, a trembling, corroded hand reaching out for her. And what does it mean that Wanda finds herself reaching back?

“Wanda”, Monica’s saying, and Wanda has just enough mind to place a menacing voice looming above them, a face forming like a twister amongst the clouds. But Vision is right there, and she just feels so torn.

“I have a new dish for you to try-try-try”, Vision says, words tumbling over as if they were on a broken record. “Just take my-my-my hand.”

“Wanda”, Monica breathes, her shields failing and body contorting, flashes of the light spectrum creating spasms throughout her body of plasma. The wind is lapping at her, the creature from above lifting her, with a startling ease, from the floor.

“Wanda”, Vision snarls, red suddenly flooding his body as he reaches out and snatches her arm. And Wanda still doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t dive into his arms either. “Wanda!”

“Wanda.” Monica’s voice is so soft but so, so afraid. Wanda turns to look at her and finds her completely enveloped in light, fingers desperately clinging to the piece of concrete keeping her grounded.

“ _ Wanda _ !”, Vision hisses, body jerking as he pulls himself upright. And Wanda just breathes. Delusions over reality. She has to make a choice.

“Wanda!”, Monica cries out, and Wanda turns, lifting a hand, red seeping from her fingers like water, brushing just against Monica’s, seeping with color before Monica’s sucked completely away. The voice drains away, and the sky clears, leaving only the damaged sprinkler system left behind.

Drenched, Wanda stares up at where Monica had disappeared, desperately clawing at the air as she reached out for Wanda. She shrieks and calls out “Monica!” And when there’s no one left to answer, not even ghosts, she whimpers, a frail, feeble, “Monica” spilling past her lips. Wrapping her arms around herself, Wanda looks about herself and listens to the sounds of chaos blooming around her. 

_ The Scarlet Witch _ , Agatha* had said, lips pulled back into a sneer.  _ Everything you touch, you bring to ruin. You are a walking catastrophe.  _

“Breathe”, Wanda tells herself, rocking back and forward. “Breathe, breathe, breathe.” She runs her hands through her hair as her chest heaves, tears streaking down her face. She needs to, she needs to do something. 

_ You had the chance to do something. And you didn’t take it. And now, he has Monica. _

This time, Wanda’s knees are the ones that give out. She can hear footsteps approaching, can feel a cold, metallic hand settling above her. The revulsion she feels at it, at the stark contrast to how beautifully human it had once been.

“Wanda-”, Vision begins, cut off by Wanda slicing an arm through the air, red surrounding a sheet of metal before impaling him. She inhales sharply, keeping her back to him the entire time as she stares up at where the portal had been before. Guided by her psionic energy, she floats up and just hovers there, remembering its presence. 

“Monica”, she wails, hand reaching out to catch the colorful residue of her friend. She then looks up, sprinkler water mixing with her tears as she hardens her face. She can still feel Vision whispering in her ear, can feel him desperately kneading her shoulders, kissing her neck, but she remains stiff, resolute.

She takes to the skies and tries to ignore the ghost clinging as desperately to her as she is to it.

. . .

“All right”, Stephen says, letting out a weary sigh as he collapses in Wong’s lap and passes the T.V. remote to him. “How about Game of Thrones?”

“I’d rather live with an interdimensional parasite for the rest of my life.”

“You know, I could arrange that.” Stephen accepts the bowl of popcorn from him, watching as Wong scrolls on through the selection. “I know a guy, but you’d probably have to kill him for it. They’re codependent like you wouldn’t believe.”

“We could watch the new Fast and Furious”, Wong suggests, eyes lighting up at the mere suggestion. Stephen just gives a shrug, as if to say, “Maybe later”. Lips pursed, Wong then proposes, “Shadowhunters?”

“Put it on the To Watch List.” 

Wong nods, lingering in question above General Hospital.

“I despite it on principle alone”, Stephen responds, his nose crinkling up in disgust.

“Well, we’ve already watched everything else”, Wong says, aghast as Stephen shifts into a more comfortable position, cheek resting comfortably against his thigh. “All that’s left is Supernatural and Sherlock, and I refuse to watch either of those.”

Stephen lets out a shudder in agreement before murmuring, “Okay, rewatch time. Any iteration of 21 Jump Street, Abominable, Merlin, or Mary Poppins. You’ve got  _ exactly  _ three seconds to decide”.

Wong’s in the midst of telling Stephen to go screw himself (and simultaneously deciding) when the ceiling suddenly explodes, red, psionic energy and concrete spewing about the once immaculate area that was the rec room. Within seconds, the two have leapt to their feet, sorcerer magic called upon before the dust has even settled. 

Then they get a look at their would-be attacker and immediately disarm themselves, sighing as they watch Wanda Maximoff sheepishly look over the place.

“Kinda overshot”, she murmurs, scratching the back of her head. 

“Ya think?” Stephen crosses his arms over his chest, watching her warily. “What brings you by?”

Maximoff just flicks her eyes from Wong to Stephen, suddenly seeming uncertain of being there before she steels herself and says, “I need you to tell me everything you know about the Dream Dimension”.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the story, hope y'all like it! I'm aware that polychromancy is apparently, for some unfathomable reason, not a real word, but polychrome just doesn't have the same ring to it, you know?  
> Anyway. Next week should be back to normal, with the plan being to post another Star Wars fic. It's gonne be crackier (and more lighthearted) than anything I've written in a while lol, so y'all gone be in for a treat. But for now, thank y'all for reading and be sure to let me know what you think. Kudos and comments give me life and I will (hopefully) see y'all next Friday!


End file.
